Just Between Us
by Kariko Emma
Summary: Morino Ibiki is at it again—him and his yarns. This time, a heroine, unnamed. For her protection, of course. This time, another annonymous person. It sort of takes two to tell. One-shot. Allegorical.


**Author's Note**: Half inspired by the novel_ Chance_, by J.C., and half inspired by the lady herself. I decided to break this up in pause-like chapters, because this story turned out just long enough where I think it warranted it. The sub-title to the story I mean only to illustrate the two natures of events in the story itself; the freedom part of it, and the girl part of it. And I don't expect this particular work of mine to sit well with anybody, for all the personal meaning I have inserted here, because I should say, this story was most inspired by _Under Western Eyes_, by the same author, and it's themes; which are still more than relevant today. I write for myself, I'm not going to cry myself to sleep if you don't like what I write. I'm content with it. And I'd love to put footnotes on my works, but…alas…I can't. Oh well. Maybe I will if it comes out in a second edition or something. XD  
and quick _Thank you_—Tahle, for helping me the other day; that was fun. **: )**

**Disclaimer:** Do not own Naruto; alas, I post here…  
**Genre:** General

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_**Just Between Us**_

_A Study_

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Chapter One: _The Confidences of Our Conversations_

"Who can assuage such deep phantasms in the soul?" he asked. "Is it us? No. Is it the devil? Certainly not. Is it the wind on the sail destined for Kiri? No, it is a far darker wind still that casts us out to the broad sea of an immeasurable stretch of life. And it is life itself which harms the soul it sustains. I cannot imagine going through life without our eyes wide open—the person is either insane, or dead.

"No, the grapple of our ghosts lies deep within us, like a knotted tether among the reeds. Who can seek it out but the looker. The knot lies somewhere between the beginning and the end—is that not where all our wrongs go?" the Morino said with a twisted smile.

"With such a deep phantom," I said, "It is a wonder it is bound at all. The soul wafts around from place to place, I've always imagined; meeting us at different points in our lives, when we least expect them, or when we least want them."

Our acquaintance for the night interjected again, "Phantoms, are horrid things."

Which seemed to put an end to it, I thought. His sunken eyes in his pale face were the picture of famine and hunger. His cheeks were red, from cold. Meanwhile, the Morino's yellow face stared quietly over our fire. We were bound in heavy coats, and scarves—our new acquaintance had a brown woolen cap over his head, looking the image of a native, emaciated by hunger and cold. He had broad shoulders, and a lanky and light build; when he stood, he was nearly perfect in height with Ibiki, and despite his outward slowness, there was a warm hue in his brown eyes, beneath his even brow. His hair was of the same color, but not much of it seen under his cap. The man was native, of earth country, this high up in the cold mountains, and he was our only guide as we navigated the snowy moraine back to a province on the south-east side. Our mission was concluded, and I suspected my captain had enjoyed the man's company. The man was intriguing. He spoke precisely. And he spoke in a low voice (similar to my captain's), with the utmost conviction and belief, voicing each of his words with a well of measure and certainty. My original assumption of him changed slowly from first glance. He was no shinobi, but the reverence and power of his words gave the impression he was versed in all forms and means. Morino had first broken his reticence with a few innocent questions, and the man responded in such an eloquent manner as he had this evening, bringing up the story, of ghosts. I thought they were interesting, the pair, similar in height, and age, and I tried keeping down several smiles for no reason. On their own, they are both perfectly silent, but prod their minds, and they turned into loquacious wizards… "But which would be worse," the Morino asked suddenly, "Living with the knot, or living without it?" Apparently, he sought the man's opinion, and baited him.

Our new acquaintance gave a mirthless laugh. "Food for ghosts," he said. "We are all subject to at least one…" he answered. "But Martyrs," he said abruptly, "though, are the only men I've met, who _are_ the knot, as you say. And they do indeed watch from out a cloud of reef, or fog of mist, waiting to pass on their souls to the next man, and so on. They'll haunt an autocratic man like you wouldn't believe. Nightmares, of freedom. Something quite foreign to one of our bureaucrat's eyes. The martyrs of liberty, are powerful; in their simple way. I met one of yours, once, who was like that. It was by chance.

"I see men once in a while," he explained, "Who come around these parts, searching for something. And let me tell you, it is a cold and high part of land, here, to be looking for something. It's almost precarious, and so I watch. And I listen. But these tethers, as you say, don't speak. But I see their knots, their phantoms; perhaps clearer here than on any other piece of land; I was born, here, gentlemen. And I see they come on missions, and errands; they come here as wanderers, as nomads, as migrants, and I see them all come through. And sometimes, I do see them back again. But a man once came up here some years ago, such as yourselves, who asked me, if this was the way to Honshu. I told him, 'Yes, you'll want to take the first pass west. And be sure that you do, or you'll wind up on the north side, near Tsutorin.' He thanked me, but he was no native. He took the wrong pass. I followed him. When he entered the city, it was the pitch of night; a blizzard was coming down over the small square. At first sight, an Iwa squad was on him. He ran. I believe he ran 'like the wind'. Lucky for him, he ran south. I think at that moment," the man smiled broadly, "He knew where in the world he was.

"As much as I would have liked to follow him, instead, I headed up to the stables, to see Rikuzou. If he was where I thought he was, he had a prime viewing of what went on, and he had. Lucky for me, he hadn't started drinking that night. I saw him going back to work, fixing the carriage lines, and I asked him who he thought our mysterious ninja was (his nephew was an Iwa shinobi), and he told me it was a Konohagakure ANBU. I'd never heard this class mentioned before. He said it was a secret cell of ninja for the purpose of doing clandestine acts. I thought it was silly. I did not believe him. 'What's the point of having a secret organization, if everybody knows about it?' He couldn't answer. Then I asked him what he speculated our visitor's furtive errand was, and he questioned my sanity, I was asking 'too many questions than usual'. He finished his task, and went back into the warm tavern to begin his…habits. For you know," the man interrupted himself, "Tsuchi is the largest country of any—because of our mountains. We have the most provinces and the most daimyo, and the largest political structure. Because of that, we have more reasons to drink ourselves silly, lest we should begin to understand the madness around us. This drowning of thought keeps the rulers quite happy, and trances the people very well; even if some of us…rebels, do, understand. It's not unusual. But it is disgusting. We treat whiskey like a handshake. It has it's advantages, but I am more inclined to keep sober, and listen. Continually, I am surprised by what I hear. So it will be no surprise to you, that I stayed around, and listened, nudging the conversation along in little concise statements to discover anything new. Anything at all. I learned every hidden village has their own secret force (his nephew, he added, knew a man who was one of them).

"I stole away," he said, with a wistful look in his brown eyes. "On horseback. Which may, or may not be the best thing to do in youth. But spontaneity, I know, does not require thought. They sky was perfectly black. I rode south, keeping the horse on the old road. I stopped, at intervals, checking for tracks and such, but by then, the blizzard and the wind were blowing hard. There was nothing. We stopped in Honshu, under the city-square lights, and I returned the shire to the stables, rubbing him down, and then I went into the Korin tavern at once. It is a tavern nestled to the right of stables, and it is a large one, I never enjoy my time visiting the house. I used to deliver letters there, to the owner, from the north. It's the largest tavern in the south. You can only imagine the level of our friendliness congregating there on cold nights. The daimyo is no sooner called our cousin. But, I pulled up my scarf, and went in.

"I must say," he said, dropping a dry twig into the fire, "I was known in that tavern no more than a mouse is known to scurry around at night, in search of bread crumbs. Because I was a youth, they saw me as nothing more than a pest they could throw their world-weary advice at in small, depressing, and as I said, more often inebriated bits. I believe that is where the germ of my disgust originated. The Korin tavern…there was a flood of people there, that night. I entered in just as another head, and I had to look up, on the bar counter on the right hand side, were our Iwa ninja, and your ANBU fellow, standing on the wooden counter, two of the Iwa men had a hold on the fellow with kunai and such, and the other three were standing in a line, giving some kind of makeshift trial. On their right, I could just barely see Yosuke, owner of the tavern, standing on the floor with a face like death, minutes away from prostrating into a nervous breakdown. He was fragile as a twig, and I believe that is why he trusted me as an emissary. Back then I was young enough not to speak too much, and mostly not to speak at all. The man had very short nerves. There was broken glass on the surface of the counter, and even I questioned for a moment it's weight capacity. I suppose though, I was too busy squeezing myself closer, hoping not to have my own head crushed by the men's shoulders. Your ANBU fellow looked as if he were about the same age as myself, I'll never forget that young man. He had grey hair, like an old man, and two mis-matched eyes, one black, one a blood red. His face was covered, from the bridge of the nose down. Damn peculiar. Stood there quite stoically. The Iwa ninja, the three of them were having an animated time, listing the crimes the fellow had committed against us. Apparently, he broke in on the west side, the east side, and now the north side. I daresay he nearly had it covered around here, but the south side is the most colorful of them all, I don't know how he missed that…"

Our acquaintance smiled warmly, contrasting his sunken and hollow features. "They gave him no opportunity for defense. Between their shouting and the crowd's intermittent yelling, it appeared to me, he would not have taken it anyway. He was perfectly reticent. I don't know if it was bravery, or defiance, or genuine indifference. Those Iwa men were mocking him cruelly—he seemed to take that too, without so much as a blink. I believe he kept his gaze on the side wall, and never strayed from it. Tenacious fellow, and a straight spine up there, considering. I was quite proud of him. I don't know why. I do not think he moved one millimeter.

"Well this mouse that I am is both quick and unpredictable. I had squeezed myself to the back wall, and I noticed the other side of that young man—his right shoulder was bleeding, it was exposed, and it was bruised, in my mind, suggestive of frostbite, but I suppose it could have been from the ninja. And by the time I was at the west wall, the three Iwa ninja debasing that fellow had pulled out their rope and began tying the man, and perhaps…Perhaps," he said, "It was defiance. A single, extraordinary act of defiance on my own. I say defiance because my disgust had culminated there in that dusty yellow squalor of drink and slurred speech and thoughts…Perhaps it was defiance," he repeated quietly. "Still, _entre nous,_ I don't regret it. I opened a panel on that far wall quickly, and I hoped that young fellow saw me. Something told me that red eye was not for show. I took off the wooden panel, and killed the switch for the anteroom—the lights went out, and the hall, for one brief, precious second, went absolutely still. And then the Iwa men shouted profanities, and there was a mess and leap of confusion—I heard actual leaping and pushing and crashing. I turned back on the switch thirty seconds later—all five Iwa men had fallen like drunkards behind the counter, partially unconscious. I replaced the panel the second I restored the lights, and I slinked away out the west end, you see, there was another entrance to the tavern behind the wall there, down four steps of stairs, and I took it, taking care to jump myself out the door to the left hand side, and I took care to walk backwards toward the entrance of the tavern where I stopped, and the people began pushing out, looking for tracks, or the rope, or anything. They found none. We went around to our right toward the stables, but the horses were all silent as glass. There was nothing that remained of that fellow. He was gone."

The breath extinguished from him, and his story. We sat in silence there for a moment, until Ibiki rose up to add another log to our fire. The orange glow roared back slowly within the bitter wind, and I watched it for some time until the fire snapped back with the new wood, and the Morino sat. It was then our acquaintance concluded, "I never saw him again." I knew enough of the man now to know he'd pointed his quiet voice toward my captain.

"You didn't?" Ibiki wondered casually.

"No," the man said. "I only heard from Rikuzou about a week later (who had heard from his nephew) the young fellow had been fighting with the revolutionaries in the east. I was never prouder than at that moment."

"Really?"

"Mm," the man confirmed. "Rikuzou told me the fellow's name. Quite a man, isn't he…?"

"Mm," the Morino agreed. "But I have it on good authority, that was not all our young fellow was doing over there…"

I straightened immediately, "What do you mean that was not all he was doing 'over there'?"

The Morino smiled at me in his usually manner before he said, "It may interest you to know, your actions, friend, allowed a certain girl to save his life."

Our acquaintance was silent for a moment, until he looked at my captain, intrigued. "How do you know this?" he asked.

"The woman told me herself. She is a woman now. But back then, she was a young lady in his command."

"Who is this woman?" I questioned.

Morino did not answer me. He simply waved and closed his eyes. I pursued him with an unwavering firm in my eyes, "Who?"

Ibiki sat there and smiled. "She is a lady now," he repeated, "And I find it fascinating with which the confidences of their conversations are expressed in so many tones and looks," he dodged me, "It's simply fascinating. I could take years to study the idea, or simply marry myself off; neither of which I intend to do anytime soon, so there is my disadvantage. But I believe, a woman can be just as silent with her own kind. It's very rare. And I saw it clear in this girl. It's a wonder she spoke with me at all, but considering I was the only Konoha ninja at the south-eastern med station, it seemed necessity, and I was there only by accident. You mentioned being small and swift like a mouse—I had the unfortunate reverse. I was caught under two steel beams after the wake of the Miyagi skirmish in Ame at the time, and I was knocked unconscious. I was found, after two days, so I gathered afterwards, by my captain, and they sent me up to the tsuchi med station, and I recuperated there. God awful place, hope you don't mind me saying so," Our friend made no objection. Ibiki's gaze bore into the fire—or perhaps the light of the flame bore into his own charcoal eyes, "Understand me," he said, "I have been in a good lot of med stations in my time. I still hold the Kusa one is the worst, on the east end. It's the doctors. They've never had any doctor come out of the country with a good bedside manner, not that I have seen. And evidence supports me on this. I've read a multitude of diaries, that date back as far as the first great war. I have a good many compatriot in my country who agree. I have also read the journals of men from taki, tsuchi, and even a few suna men. It's all the same. 'They're murderers', I read in a report from a Konoha shinobi before my time. The only flowers that stood in that place, he wrote, whether in vases or bouquets or arrangements were dead upon their exit. Every single one of them.

"The tsuchi station was not like this. What is worse than a morbid, antipathetic doctor? One who looks at you with a stealth pair of eyes and records your every move: doctors who function also as spies. It is a good thing I laid silent, most of the time, with one eye open myself, and one foot on the floor. Good God, I never felt so insecure in one place as I did there. The weather was fine, the birds, animals, and the plants were all unaffected, but the people were intent—no, it was in their very nature to record, relay, and respond as if you were the paranoid one! My word…!"

Our friend was smiling again quite warmly in my captain's brief indignant silence. "I do apologize for my brethren," our friend said, with a twinkle in his brown eyes. "My ninja and government have no manners about their business. I can assure you had an ordinary person met you, he'd have informed you with happiness he was spying on you, and then go about it with glee. We are a congenial bunch."

"Indeed," the Morino smiled. "But still, I much rather enjoyed the open-ended tsuchi question 'Are you going to die?' rather than the Kusa man's blatant 'You are going to die.' It is certain that I am going to die, yet the tsuchi man may know something about it I do not. It was an interesting change, to say the least, but I was never the type to become unnerved, even in youth."

"You have plenty of evidence on that account," I muttered informatively.

"Hm?"

I smiled; I knew the man long enough. "Evidence," I said. "Your missions as the 'impenetrable' scout! Your tales at the Intel ward. I have never seen you unsteady."

Ibiki became quiet for a moment. "Then perhaps you have forgotten I told you about a pale-faced ninja of ours."

My smile was turned on both ends. I frowned subsequently. And Ibiki too turned that thought away. "But that is a different story—where was I now in this one…"

"Our doctors are bureaucrats."

"Oh yes. Very fine inquisitors though. I suppose they must be quite thorough in their line of work. As my friend pointed out, I am very similar. They were fascinated with my lack of communication. I was left there, alone, with instructions to return south as soon as I was recovered. These instructions were written by my captain before he left on a sheet of paper, entrusted to those…doctors, and I did not discover this note for four days, when the head doctor on accident dropped it into my hands with faux nonchalance and told me 'Oh and this was left for you.' He hung over my shoulder diligently like a bold-faced raven as I read it. I believe I surprised him when I broke my silence and asked him if he would like it back. He grumbled at me, and went out the door of the room and left the door ajar in case I should ask for anything. I put that note in my pocket, aware I was being watched by the nurse through a crack in the hole of the ceiling. I did not stray from his line of sight, but I did stray to the window, which I was sure aggravated their suspicions, whatever they were. I had heard of your revolutionaries by my captain," Morino said, "And just between us, it's no surprise now that on a small level, Konohagakure was involved. I was not that concerned with the matter, since in my youth, I was eager to return south and complete our assignment. No doubt, they must have imagined me a spy. A convenient (but injured) plant from Konoha. But really, what good was I? My injuries were not severe, but they were restricting. My left arm was in a sling, and my right leg was taped very well; I was not going to go far…

"On the fifth day, something extraordinary happened. I went from being a supposed spy, to a for certain spy with the arrival of the young lady, a Konoha ninja, an ANBU operative. She came in alone with a burn on her right arm, and the doctors treated her. I knew this because the nurse's eye was gone from the little hole in the ceiling above me, and they treated her in the room adjacent to mine so I could hear every word that was spoken. She surprised me," the Morino said, "She was not naïve; she knew exactly where she was, and most importantly, who she was talking to. It was remarkable. Her captain trained her well. She said she came in from the west side off a ferry from the south-bend of the river where she'd been sent in to look for your renegade Prince K—. Just as the two were coming up through Satsu, they were attacked by revolutionaries on the south side. There was an Iwa ninja with them whose element was fire, and of course, she engaged him in battle, coming in the victor only by their retreat.

"The doctors hounded her with questions, and she answered them all perfectly without pause. The burn was not severe. They told her about me, and that's when I met her. The nurse stayed behind to listen outside the door, while the others left to check her story in the frenzied and breathless excitement they were in. She came into the room I was in and shut the door on the nurse's face and I believe he stayed there, not moving a damn millimeter from the time she came in to the time she left. His resilience was extraordinary. I believe they ought to have given him a medal for it…Myself, as with everything I do, I have always suspected no one ever tells the whole truth, but I admit, at that moment, I did not know she'd made the _entire_ thing up. She introduced herself, needlessly, expressing her surprise to see a fellow soldier there, and I told her I had heard everything. 'You did?' she seemed genuinely surprised. It was the only validation of her youth so far. I was very astonished. I gave her my name and she asked me how I found myself there, so I told her my brief chain of events and I said, 'They believe I am a revolutionary spy. Perhaps you ought to bring me to custody. At least there I'd have a proper trial.' No doubt, I was speaking with my face and voice directly at the door. She was in front of me, and she smiled and played her part perfectly, she said, 'Do not be disheartened by the good men here. We are merely trying to help the wayward souls who do not appreciate their own autocracy. Prince K— is the absolute worst, the treason of that man, I'm sure you heard…?' I nodded, and she continued, recounting some pieces of her tale in her pursuit. I grew more astounded by the minute by the conviction in her lie. Debasing a capitalist takes a certain level of natural ignorance she imitated amazingly well, but she was not overbearing, nor was she dramatic about it. She kept her statements short and meaningful. Her captain taught her well," Ibiki repeated with a distant look in his eyes. "I confess here, I became interested to learn the true nature of her assignment, but that was impossible for the time being.

"But I began to understand how she could speak with such clarity. Her story was proven by the skipper of the ferry boat, the only other witness to this 'battle'. The doctors came back that night and spoke of it on the floor above me (it must have been some kind of common room) and they spoke in hushed, but amazed tones. They began to treat the girl with extraordinary kindness, they believed her tale, and they even smiled at me in a sadistic manner, rejoicing in their victory over the revolutionaries. Silly brutes. We knew better. But she did not break her fortitude then, nor did she shrink from the lie. I believe the status of my own supposed spy-hood was generously dismissed that evening. And so was I. They dismissed me from the facility entirely. 'You may go, silly brute.' I imagine that's what the nurse was thinking as I walked from his sight through the hole in the floor. What I wouldn't give to see him wink at me behind my back…"

Morino paused here as he smiled in his usual manner. Our acquaintance rose up to bring more wood for the fire. By this time, my thoughts were far from the cold, but upon my captain and the mysterious young girl. I was impatient to know her name and her actions, but I knew asking again this soon would only provoke a keener dodge than before. I'd come to expect it from the tall shinobi; the ordinary curiosity of man always seems to implode itself before Morino's patient reserve. I suppose that's why no one ever got a word from that man when it came down to it; before me sat the greatest man of the mind Konohagakure had ever known. There were two usual choices: he would speak, or not at all.

Our friend returned and stoked the fire and I confess I was a bit startled by the break of the silence as he began to speak; "Prince K— escaped the authorities."

My captain nodded. "He did."

Our friend smiled as he sat; I observed it was a proud smile.

"She told me the quick story of Prince K—, in addition to her real explanation of events…But I think you might know it better," Ibiki, too, was interested in that knowing smile.

Chapter Two: _The Prince's Tale_

The fire blazed before us; he grinned, "The only son of the daimyo in the southern province. The son grew up in the best of government schools, under the best teachings of 'free-minded' liberal thinkers, the best displays of conceit and wealth at home, and the dastard fellow turns out to be 'one of us'. Oh yes," he said. "I know his story very well.

"And perhaps it is wealth," he began, "That shows us our place, our belief. Those of us born without it, I speak for myself, have learned to love the only stationary beings around us from the time we are born, our parents. And though mine were laid to rest early in my life, I had my brother, who taught me everything. He was a man who fought the power-grabs our daimyo began taking with the people. He was the founder of the group that I now lead, the _sons of liberty_. Though I'm not quite sure who our parents ever were. This land was born tyrannical, and it's said that the people here know no other way than this. I do not believe this presumption, and neither does anyone with whom I connect in this small band. I suppose I take a risk entrusting you with this information, but I'm sure it comes now as no surprise.

"What did come as surprise was the turning of the only son of the daimyo of the south. I still remember it like yesterday. He told me this himself, of his up-bringing when I was a young teen, more a child, before I ever saw your ANBU fellow. I followed him on horseback into a cove near the west end of the river. It was a warm summer. He'd been renegade for two years, and his father was desperate to see him back among his liberal minds. The Prince told me he had no intention of ever going back. He said, 'I was born to the purple. Purple being the color of royalty, of power, of persuasion, and a whole slew of other things I do not particularly care for, and my father expected me to wear it, proudly! I revolted it. I reviled it. I turned against it, body and soul. I began to see, _mon cher_, that our government, with our pompous shows and our programs for everybody else was not the answer, but the destroying factor in a man's spirit. We have fundamentally taken away his right—my right to do without! To fail! To concede! To go hungry! What brave new world denies a man these freedoms?' he asked, and I was speechless. This was the very first time I met him since he had run away. I had not expected him to speak like my brother. He continued with his conviction, 'When I was younger, I was not permitted to do without. So I often dreamed of venturing out into the wilderness at times, living among nothing but the animals, the forest, and the river, untouched by food programs or government housing, provided work, or provided aide. I often wandered away from my parents at times as a child, frequently; I was quite a nuisance. I was an only child, you see, so I was also quite precious. As I grew in my youth, my mind was softened like wet cotton to accept the help of bureaucrats in my quest of fate. There was a bureaucrat who gave me my food, my clothes, my teachings, my art, and my world. I began to revile this middleman who would have gladly bathed me in the waters of submission and scrubbed me bare with the liberal ideas I could not accept. Their way, was the right way. It was the only way. This land was born in that blood and that tradition, and now damn me; I could not accept it any longer. I wonder why more of my countrymen do not see this as your brother did. That is the only thing I do not understand, _mon cher petit ami_.' He silenced, and I realized in this silence, he was genuinely seeking some sort of answer. And so I answered, to the best of my own knowledge, 'Because, we have accepted it.' He was about to rejoin, but he closed his mouth as he grasped the statement. '_Je comprends_…' he murmured. 'So be it. But I vow before you now, I will challenge this attitude. I have claimed victory upon it myself for two years. Hope is not lost. I am the bastard son of a daimyo, if I can do it, so can my people. I will not yield.'

"And he didn't yield," our friend smiled, "But two years before that conversation, when I was a mere child, my brother was fresh in his higher teens with a moral conviction in his heart the size of the damn country, and the confidence to do whatever came into his mind and to execute it as best he could. He was planning an assassination attempt of the southern daimyo, in response to the lord's fascist move to seize control of a chain of private enterprises. At this time, Prince K— was a youth himself, a year older than my brother. Our prince, behind closed doors, had been increasingly belligerent with his father at the time, and he left the house one night in haste, and ran away, bed sheets tied together, trailing down the window of his liberal precipice, fleeing toward that blessed world of failure and seclusion he so often dreamed about. He went off on horseback, and retreated toward that cove of the river, his destiny. The next day, the news was known in a whirl of mystery and outrage. The lord was woefully overcome by his son's actions. All the guards, and all the policeman, and three cells of Iwa ninja were called to search for the missing sheep. My brother was impatient to realize his chance; but somehow I convinced him to wait. The lord was all over in his carriages to see his elitist acquaintances and such, and by the end of the day, very late at night, this was summer, he returned to his home on the south side. The next day, the routine repeated, with no word yet on the missing son. My brother seized his opportunity that evening, and he followed the carriage along the lane. He had one of those explosive kunai with him you people use. It makes a very good explosion. And my brother had perfect aim. He waited in the trees, and jumped down just as the carriage turned, and threw it at the back end of the carriage. It went off. The carriage incinerated and went up in flames—the two horses reared up and the lines burned, and they galloped off. My brother ran. You run, after this sort of thing.

"Had he checked the remains of the black mess, he'd have found that it did not contain the charred remains of the daimyo, oh no. It had been one of his elitist friends, a minister of diversity, Minister T—, bringing innocent news of…diversity. Poor minister. I am not empathizing with him. No, my brother and I found his position a joke, and therefore, his life, a joke. He was a bald little man who passed out leaflets like candy on the street corners to his people, with stories of how good you Konoha men were, despite certain parts of your free society. He had that look he might be your uncle, he was always smiling; very taciturn and a little odd-looking. My brother inadvertently blasted that smile off his face for good. We lost our facetious joke, you see, so it's because of that, I despair. I wish he were still among us today, standing out there on the corner square, passing out his little leaflets written in a noble language nobody among us could understand. Though…I do suppose," he thought. "If you're happily inebriated, it might have made some sense to you. But as neither I, nor my brother ever tried that habit, we cannot say…No," he resumed after a pause, "The daimyo had returned early through another path, and my brother mistook the carriage he saw. It was in the papers the next day. My brother was beside himself in shock. We despaired. My brother went to try again the next night. He waited in the trees on the east side this time, there was a cell of Iwa nin right outside the daimyo's house. He waited a long while. Until finally, a carriage came down the lane, and with it, another cell of four Iwa ninja, with young man in their presence: it was poor Prince K— seized from his wilderness only after forty-eight hours of fresh air. The precious little time did him good, and solidified his conservative will. My brother waited still. Right there, in that path, the daimyo got out of his carriage, and walked up to his son, and began remonstrating with him the virtues of welfare. Prince K— shouted back as if he were in a mad asylum, arguing like a little child in cause. 'I do not understand this hatred of yours!' his father exclaimed. 'Where is this rudeness, this ungratefulness coming from?!' Prince K— spat wildly, 'From you! Hypocrite!'

"'You dare call _me_, a hypocrite?'

"Prince K— told me in all his waking life, he was never so clear-headed. 'Yes, you! You, dear father, the ruler of all my days! Am I to be led all my life by your tyranny?!'

"'My tyranny! My word! It is for your own good!'

"'Then I do not want it!' Prince K— said. 'I do not want my own good! I want my own bad! Yes father, I want my own bad. It is shocking, but I want it, and you cannot give it to me. I do not want your personal welfare. I want my own fair-self to look after my own wellness! I do not want it handed to me, boxed to me, shipped to me in some self-contained package from an entity that cannot even function correctly half the time to_ send_ me that package! I want to be left alone! To my own devices, to my own two hands,' and there he flung up his hands in gesticulation. 'Why do you not understand that? How can you not understand that?'

"'My dear boy…' That was all his father got out before he looked to the shinobi and said quietly, 'Take him away.'

"Prince K— fought the men, violently, but he was unsuccessful. Three men took him away. At that point, one of the ninja spoke with the daimyo, and it was about my brother. The ninja had sensed him in the trees. The ninja consulted with two of the men of the guarding cell, and that's when my brother desperately took his chance—he flung the kunai at the lord, but the ninja blocked it, and my brother was captured, and imprisoned with Prince K—. The two were together for a period of one week. Prince K— is the only reason my brother survived that long. I aided in their escape the only way I could, the only way I knew to do. I got my hands on a kunai from a stable master my brother and I trusted, and I concealed it within my little sling, and marched up to the jail when the dusk had fallen. I climbed onto the roof, and waited for it to get darker still. Then, with my trembling hands, I threw the kunai towards the east end, over the empty stables. Prince K— told me later that when my brother heard this in the cell across from him, my brother's head rose up toward the heavens and he shouted, 'There! There, I can hear it! I can just hear it…! Our humble and meek cry of liberty, dear Lord…!' The guards were diverted toward the blast, and so were the Iwa ninja—I was faced with a choice. And I chose to run, as my brother so often told me to do. I ran through every dark way I could think of to avoid being detected. I ran for the spring house. It was an antiquated retreat on the north end of town near the forest where my brother and I use to play when we moved east. In times of old, it was a keeping house for criminals. Now it had no purpose, it still has not today. It is something of a shrine to me. I went there, and I waited. Perhaps it was my saving grace that night, my ability to be unseen as nothing more than a mouse. I waited for long time. _Entre nous_, it was the darkest hours of my life. I was very afraid of what I'd done. I knew the consequences. But hours later, my brother came to me, alone. His clothes were in tatters. He came at the very end of his life. He died there, in that place, gentlemen."

Our acquaintance paused, gazing into the fire. "There is your welfare," he muttered. "Give me liberty, or give me death. Powerful words. I doubt any soul could know the real power of those words other than my brother. But he passed that will on to me that night. And he passed on the nightmares of freedom, along with Prince K—, into the mind of the southern daimyo. That's all they were. Nightmares. Nightmares of liberty. Just dreams. Of crazy talk. Two years passed, and Prince K— was never caught again. So began his waking life of being renegade, being, one of us. Two years, he came back, and that's when I spoke with him. That's when he confided to me his hatred of his purple, the final night he revolted against his father, and my brother's valiant state of mind, at the end. 'I spent seven days with your brother there in that place,' he told me, 'And I never saw another extraordinary soul. I will never forget it. Rest his memory, he was ill-used. They took him away to a solitary cell so I would not witness…' I believe he stopped here for my sake. And I confess, I did not have the will, either, to hear of it. '…But I could hear,' he said. 'And what I heard brought tears to my eyes. Oh yes. I can cry. I seldom did it while under my wraps of purple clothes, but I did it then. And I fought. I have not fought as long as you, but I have been fighting, in my own way, _oui_. These past two years, I have gone to the ends of earth country, both high and low, looking for my people, for my answers, and for my solutions. I can only hope I am doing right by you now, my dear friend.'

"I was speechless again. It is my nature, yes, but the passion of his words, and his own brown clothes… He was dressed as an ordinary person, and he looked it too. He said, 'My father may wish me back, but he wishes now for someone who does not exist. Someone who never existed, as he knew it. I knew better. I may not know best, but I do know better.'

"He did know better. He threw not kunai or blades, but pamphlets and papers; essays. Essays into his very soul and makeup. He threw the written word into the face of his father and his friends, and I am sure the reaction was very much the same as if I were looking at a little leaflet of Minister T—'s. They could not understand it. It spoke to them in a foreign tongue. But a few more precious people did begin to see, and that was what upset them. Prince K— was the most wanted renegade in all tsuchi. Still is. They wanted him more than criminals more than murders, more than missing nin. Prince K— was philosophical treason incarnate; the most dangerous kind there is. I looked up to him, and his bravery, inspiring freedom and liberty in a way I had not dreamed he was capable of. For years, now, he has survived and evaded the ninja. Prince K— has made many friends of his own, and I am happy for him. But years ago, when I saw your ANBU fellow, Prince K— had been seen at the south-west end days before, south-east of Honshu. He was leading a revolutionary movement in the depths of winter on that snowy moraine, and I had been on my way there when I met your ANBU fellow. You can understand now my intrigue with what one of you were doing out here in the middle of nowhere…

"Prince K— had raised a little following of his own I was connected with. I aided your shinobi, and Prince K— and I rallied down south. Prince K—'s father on the east end was quite disturbed with the showing. We were four hundred people on the north lawn of the west daimyo's house, and no ninja came to disband us. After a successful showing, Prince K— galloped off with two hundred of our brethren in liberty, and I went with the remaining under Prince K—'s trusted attaché, and we headed north to Honshu. But Prince K—, I heard, ran into trouble, and after Honshu, we demonstrated at Tsutorin, that was when Rikuzou told me your ANBU fellow had been a fighter with the revolutionaries…"

Ibiki nodded. Our acquaintance had passed the torch to him, so to speak, and Morino took it, "I was walking home on your east end after they told me I could go. The lady I spoke of wanted to see me past the river, and she walked with me. The girl spoke to me there, outside the station. Truthfully, this time," my captain said with a smile.

Chapter Three: _The Lady Explains, And the Undying Flames, of Liberty_

"She first explained to me in six months she 'has called' her captain '_senpai_', but still, 'I have not begun to understand him at all,' she told me. 'I'd like to think I do,' she confided, 'but I never will. He is the most selfish, most altruistic, and most stubborn man I've ever met, and I want to say it's unlike anybody—any captain I've ever met. I saved him back there in Honshu six days ago and still he thinks he can do everything by himself!' she exclaimed.

"It was confirmed in my mind then," Morino told us, "She was still just a youth. These things interest me. Perhaps it's just my nature. But, I grant, her captain was no ordinary young shinobi. Her senpai out-ranked me at the time, and I still hold he's one of our most powerful ninja. I am no match for him," I blinked, but Ibiki went on, "She is a chakra sensor. But not a reader. She only has a faint sense, like he does. She said she found him on the roof of a tavern, unconscious. He would have likely frozen to death had she not arrived in time. 'There were lots of people gathered around,' she told me, 'I don't know why. I thought maybe it was because of the rallies, but they all looked drunken.' She said she couldn't make out what they were saying."

Our friend beside the fire smirked, and his head lowered.

"Understand, she's as disgusted by these things as you are," Morino said with a smile. "She was a very honest but mostly quiet young girl, and she still is. She's moral, and she has quite a temper when angered. An eye for an eye kind of lady. She was trained a little in medical jutsu, and that was how she saved his life. She took him back all the way to the east end so they could fulfill their mission with Prince K—. She said, 'Senpai and I fought a band of Iwa ninja that were sent straight from the south daimyo. The whole rally turned into an ugly mess that way, and Prince K— with his men escaped the authorities. We made sure of that. We stayed there until the Iwa men retreated. Senpai was the cause of that. I think he scared them too bad. But almost two days ago, they came back to chase Prince K—, but we stopped them again. It was on the north side. I was burned on this arm, and senpai suggested we spin a little tale. Well his sharingan did the spinning on the poor skipper, and now I ended here, with you.'

"'Well,' I said, 'Where is he now?'

"She smiled at me and said quietly, 'Our mission was not exclusive of helping the freedom-fighters.' And now I had a damned look on my face. 'I lied to the doctors here in hopes they might think we were on their side,' she told me, 'I was so glad it worked. I wasn't sure if it would. Senpai said it would. He said he'd come after I was released, and I think he should be there at the station now,' she glanced behind her, 'We were tracking down a rogue ninja. Prince K— confirmed it for us. His father, the daimyo ordered the ninja to track the revolutionaries himself. It's our mission to stop him.' She stopped there and immediately, I asked, 'By yourselves? There's just the two of you?' She nodded as if I'd just said something that surprised her.

"'Do you realize,' I said, 'That two shinobi aren't enough for this sort of thing?'

"'Oh but…' she stopped herself there, unsure of whether or not to tell me more. But she conceded and confided, 'There's a four-man cell scheduled to leave just today to aide Prince K— in our place. Meanwhile, senpai and I will gather information on this ninja, and stop him, best we can. I should probably head back to see if he's there…I can't sense him yet…' She confessed she thought he'd probably gotten himself into some damn trouble again, and instinctively, I wouldn't have thought it out of the question. Quite an odd man indeed. But there are so few of us…we need every troublemaker we can get, I think."

"Ibiki…" I interrupted. I felt I had to. "Shinobi are not usually troublemakers. Don't go giving another bad impression."

He grinned at me, and apologized. "I did not dream of offending you," he added. "But how can you describe all her senpai did in his ANBU days. It's nothing short of precariousness."

I did not have the experience to argue with him. "He…is one of our most…unique ninja. I can't deny that."

"Did the two catch the hired ninja?" our friend wondered inquisitively. "I did not hear about that. Prince K— never mentioned it to me."

"Well…I cannot pretend to guess why he didn't…but now, this was years later when she told me—"

"You are still in touch with her?" I asked.

"I do not recall checking your acquaintances," my captain said.

"Sorry," I said, "But you're still a fortified wall. Forgive me for trying to penetrate. I'm just curious."

Morino smiled. "Well. She told me, _years later_," with emphasis sure to send slight annoyance through my veins, "That the ninja's sole purpose, hired by the southern daimyo himself, was to kill Prince K—, his own son."

I watched our friend from out the corner of my eye as he looked at my captain, and then downwards with an astonished look on his face, slowly dropping. "I see…" he murmured soberly.

"Obviously they caught him before they did so. It was quite something. They chased him up north, through the towns and villages, up mountains and over quarries. She said, 'I'll never forget that. I saw earth country in six months like I'd never seen it before.' Her senpai was forced to kill him towards the battle's end… And so ended it."

We three stayed silent for a moment, until our friend prodded the fire with a short twig. "No," he said, with a heaviness in his chest that seemed to drag his head down; "It's never over. It's not over now. Still, they ignore us. And still, we try," he dropped the twig into the fire and watched it smolder. "Prince K— never told me that incident. Poor man…He shows pity towards his father, more than anything else. I suppose it is a hard topic with him…considering. Would you be interested to know what Prince K— is doing now…?" Our silence—Morino's short nod provided the answer. The man spoke then with some ease. "Lately, Prince K— is busy writing his first memoir. It is not really a memoir, he chastises me for calling it so. It is 'a collection', he says, 'of truths, of experiments, of honor, and of freedom, all of which still foreign to my poor father's eyes.' Last I heard—it was only a week ago, he was writing page two hundred and twelve. He's going to have it bound in leather, a very thick, hard leather, so, he says, 'if words cannot battle them, we will beat each other with these books until the end of time. It will be a bloody mess at the end, the liberals will set fire to it all of course, and so the Bible's story will finally be validated in that singular moment, and we will all be faced with the end of time. Just think, _mon cher_, the flames of these pages with ignite such a show. The fire will begin to snap, and the crack of doom will be heard…There will be a candle that all of tsuchi will see that I trust, will _never_ be put out.'

"_Entre nous_…he's gotten very dramatic, in his wide-eyed waking years," our friend said with a faint smile in his eyes as he looked up briefly. "But he says he will dedicate his new book to my brother's memory, and all those before him, and all those after him. I'm very grateful to Prince K—; he's become an uncle to me, and a constant inspiration. And his leaflets and letters are ones I read with diligence. We let a little bald man of ours pass them out in the streets. He must choose a different location every day in the city, for fear he is nabbed up and never seen again. He is a good little runner, and he is a brave little man. He is our minister, of liberty. And we hope, he is never taken from us. I act as personal guard sometimes for him. I feel it's my duty…" he trailed with distant look in the warm hue of his eyes. "Where is this lady of yours?" he inquired idly. "Does she still see that mis-matched man?"

Ibiki nodded. "Her old senpai remains aloof, most of the time. His red eye doesn't see her concern for him, but I think his black eye does. He is the same age as myself, but he acts far beyond his years; he is not very communicative with anybody. 'It's his way', or so she says. She keeps trying, and I believe she understands him now more than the rest of them. She is a very quiet lady, and he a quiet man. Drunken men still outrage her, among a sundry mix of other things, and he his is still very stoic looking. But women are such odd, persistent creatures…I confess…I encourage her to keep trying. She likes him. She has a well of fantasy, that girl, even though she's rooted in shinobi training, her captain trained her extremely well. She was never naïve…but she lives in a different world than we do. It's fascinating. She still believes in fairy-tales; in chance."

"Good Lord," our acquaintance interrupted. "There is nothing wrong with that; for all this talk I hear of the world ending, I have had daydreams recently of quiet afternoons in the spring house. That was twenty years ago. It beats thinking of going mad and beating each other with hard-cover books…"

"You don't really believe that…"

"Prince K— is a man of conviction," our friend smiled, "He is a man who is lured by the wind of liberty as strong as a starving man who is baited by a piece of bread. That kind of hunger gives you insight and dreams and clarity, gentlemen, more powerful than you have ever known."

We parted ways, the next afternoon.

I was sorry to leave him behind. My captain and I both stayed silent until we finally returned to the borderline of Konoha days later. It was there as we walked through the forest I said, "I don't know of any such young girl, now matured, who could have ever served with the copy ninja, at that point in time."

"Then perhaps you have not studied that point of time in detail."

I looked at him squarely. "I am racking my brain to think of such a person you're referring to, and now I doubt whether she existed at all."

"She would not take kindly to what you have just implied."

"I did not imply anything!" I said, "I'm just merely trying to _get_ a _name…_"

"Then ask the copy ninja yourself. See what he says."

"Ask…who? Do you think I am _completely_ ignorant? He is on the other side of the country right now!"

"Yes and Prince K— is behind us writing his memoirs. Perhaps you might go and ask _him_ before the world ends. Just between us, you will not get another word out of me. I have already said too much."

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By _Caliko, _Kariko Emma


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